


The Order of Things

by golden_bastet



Category: Stalker (1979), The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_bastet/pseuds/golden_bastet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, an obbo goes horribly pear-shaped and the unspeakable happens: Bodie loses his partner Doyle.</p><p>In the aftermath, Bodie leaves it all behind him: London, CI5, his hopes and dreams and missed chances, repairing to a small cottage in the north. He exists, doing the bare minimum, unable to even think of Doyle, much less avenge him. George Cowley, however, has other plans, sending him deep into enemy territory with a promise of vengeance in pursuit of the man who threw Bodie down the rabbit hole.</p><p>However, a straightforward tracking job becomes more complicated than Bodie had bargained for when he finds his guide is insane, their other companion may be a spy, and the terrain itself may be in league against him. His dreams bring back memories he'd long suppressed. And the vengeance he so dearly seeks may not be what he thinks it is.</p><p>================</p><p>PLEASE NOTE: check the endnotes for warning if there are particular things you absolutely don't want in your Pros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**[Accompanying Images](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Pros_Big_Bang_2013/works/1020974) **  
**[Accompanying Vid](http://youtu.be/aNl87d25k5Q) **

_He was falling falling like a shooting star_  
  
_down like a rock_

#

_Chasing another in a long line of villains. Bodie had switched back to circle around the rear of the building, while he'd taken the front._

_He'd known it'd been a bad idea as the door opened and their quarry paused, not expecting another armed man out front, then dove towards Doyle_

#

_Doyle sneezed_

#

_"Don't think this is one of your better ideas, Angelfish"_

_Doyle hadn't been feeling well most of the day, should've been at home in bed. Except their type didn't stay at home in bed, now did they?_

#

_The bullet came whizzing towards where Sykes had been, but Sykes was no longer there to meet it_

#

_"I meant you, and the cold. Both temperature and germ-wise"_

#

_Bodie took off jogging out of sight around the curve of a side path_

#

_Doyle could see the bullet, if that were possible with its trajectory and its high rate of speed; but what he really saw was Bodie behind it, as the horror of what was about to happen began to unfold across his features_

#

_"I'll be fine. Nothing a good hot cuppa and a good night's sleep won't cure."  
"Yeah, and when are we next set for one of those?"_

#

_Doyle thought he could see a word start to form on Bodie's lips._

#

_It was nothing like what Doyle had expected it to be, though truthfully he remembered little about Mayli's little field trip. No, more like he'd been hit by a sledgehammer with a fine point, both lifting him up, knocking him off his feet and drilling directly into his chest_

#

_"DOYLLLLLLLLE ~"_

#

_In a way, it seemed fitting that it would be Bodie's bullet: not some terrorist, or some drug runner, or some IRA goon._

_Sykes fell into a rolling drop, then slipped away, suddenly a bit player in this unfolding drama_

_Only Bodie could have the honour -_

#

_" DOYLLLLLLLLE ~"_

#

_"It won't take too long, just have to cut him off and then we've got him."_

#

_" DOYLLLLLLLLE ~"_

#

_And the ground was rushing up to meet him -_

#

_"Doyle." He was being shaken awake, Bodie at the other end of the arm shaking his shoulder. "Wake up; we're being summoned. Sykes has finally been spotted. C'mon, then. And wipe the drool off your face. Hate to ask what you've been up to in your sleep."_

_Doyle stood, adjusting his wool jacket, looking around the empty break room for a second, then following his partner's back retreating through the door._


	2. Chapter 2

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Days blended into weeks, then months, then years; and still George Cowley steered CI5, the culmination of his life's work, from Major to Comptroller and now Commander. Still kept England smelling if ever so faintly of the lavender and roses of his ancestors, so that others might not know, not have to know of threats and continue their lives unaware.

Through double-think and triple-think, through diplomatic crises and budget fights and machinations and outmaneuvering of other agencies, Cowley had guided his ship through the rapids and shoals of Her Majesty's Government. Intake classes, training sessions, A Squad and B Squad: Cowley's agents passed through the front doors of CI5's various homes. Most didn't make it through the training; others did and stayed, though prosper might not be the correct word. Far too many had been sent off with a wreath and a curt benediction; far too few had been given the option to retire quietly, though 'quiet' would be a fate which few would have actively chosen. 

It had been difficult and treacherous and other words that he'd never publicly acknowledge, but Cowley could see the tangible results of his years of work. CI5 commanded a level of respect - never near as much as it deserved, but he now got his calls returned a little more quickly than in the past. After a few high-level cases with positive outcomes - one extremely pernicious case against Parliament in particular - a few more members of the Cabinet now treated him slightly better than a rabid dog clamouring for attention. Yes, he had no doubt that the work would never truly end, but the agency had come some way towards a measure of permanency.

And there had been two of his agents in particular - chalk and cheese, his best team and the ones he'd had high hopes could someday take up his work here. One now long cold, the other far away.

Though he might have to bring that other closer in.

Cowley looked down at the papers spread across his desk, a deep frown momentarily creasing his brow. "Aye, laddie, I'd hoped to spare you this, but I can't send a boy in to do a man's job. CI5 needs you. Damn it, I need you."

#####

Bodie spent much of his time at a cottage far away in the north country. It was a place he'd socked away years ago, as a bolt hole in case an Operation Susie went irretrievably pear-shaped. It had come in handy once he'd left CI5, and its world of betrayal and double cross, far behind. He spent his time in a spartan existence, only making contact with others when necessity beckoned; otherwise he could go weeks and months without seeing another being.

And he preferred it that way.

Down in the village they referred to him as Iron Man; something whispered first one day as he silently strode from the grocer's, then spread throughout the town until now that was his name much as "the Cow" had been someone else's in another time. And, like the Cow had been, Bodie was aware he was known as Iron Man, and didn't particularly care. It was something beyond his scope of caring, that meant nothing, that he didn't feel; if anything, a small part of him surmised that it gave him an edge and a certain level of respect that he had had to do little to achieve, and it kept most at bay. For Bodie was cool, calm, collected; ran at a low temperature, with little getting beneath his skin. The days of virtually anything, or anyone, getting beneath his skin were now long behind him.

So it was not a good day, despite the sunshine and the quiet of the surrounding woods, and the amount of work Bodie had been able to accomplish on the cottage, when a solid black Merc came up his drive and a slight yet commanding older man stepped out from behind the wheel, alone. 

_Cowley._ He looked less aged than Bodie would have expected.

"Bodie, lad. It's been a while."

A terse nod in response.

"Been keeping yourself up, I see; you look to be in excellent shape for being inactive. Nothing that Macklin can't sort out. Good."

The nod became a hostile glance.

"I hate to interrupt your retirement, but we have important things to discuss. Let's go inside and talk over a few items."

"No reason to; don't see much to discuss. _Sir_." Because old habits died hard, even across the years.

"Laddie, I know you turned in a resignation, know you meant to never be active again. Know that you believe that last assignment was a setup. But I have some news that you're likely to want to hear."

"Left that all behind, made it clear when I left. Left news and obbos and D-notices and CI5 and the rest of that lot. Nothing there for me, not a place I'm interested in anymore." The voice remained flat, just waiting for the time to pass and this intruder to leave. "Don't work for CI5 anymore and don't have any reason to; nothing around to bother about."

"I remember what happened, Bodie, and what you said when you were last in my office. I believe the phrase was, 'Finished with your outfit, finished with your rules, and finished with _you_ , George Cowley,' although the language might have been a little more colourful." 

Despite the crisp disapproval of his former commander's tone, Bodie didn't wince. 

"However, I think you'd like to hear about this. It's Sykes."

"Sykes?" Just the barest hint of interest, although with a hard man that could be enough for a death sentence.

"Ah, yes, Sykes. I know how you searched for him for years, though you were very careful, covered your tracks. He, however, had gone deep to ground for a very long time. But lately he seems to have raised his head long enough to take a look around. Figured the search was likely up, it was safe to look at the lay of the land."

"And - ?"

"He will be yours, on a platter. And I won't know a thing. But I need you, no one else. Only you will do. So - shall we?" Cowley gestured towards the door to the cottage.

"Let me see if there's a bottle of malt scotch open." Bodie turned to lead the way into the cottage.

#####

"So, Bodie." Cowley paused to take a long, appreciative sip of his drink. The man was serving a much better grade of scotch than he used to. "What do you know about Chelyabinsk-40?"

"Closed city in the Soviet Union." Bodie's training kicked in once again, and the answers came fairly easily. "Specializes in heavy industry, especially after the relocations of industrial production during the war. Also a main producer of tanks for the Soviet Army."

"Aye; all that, and also the home of some very high-level nuclear research. So high-level that when an incident occurred in the late Fifties, there was no official notification made to the villages in the immediate area, much less any of the several countries downwind. In fact, our friends across the pond didn't know about it for a good two years."

"An 'incident'?" Cowley wasn't known for his euphemisms. "What kind of 'incident' would that have been?"

"Not clear, Bodie, though it was severe. Perhaps a massive industrial accident, perhaps a meteor crash. Enough to impact the region for miles round. The Soviets have remained extremely tight-lipped about this to this day. However, they fairly quickly proceeded to set up an exclusion zone around the area. Very closely guarded, no one allowed in or out."

"Why the interest in this area now?"

"As it turns out, there are a few individuals that do manage to get in and out - when they're not caught or shot as trespassers. Their visits are followed by goods appearing on the black market, of high value and possible military significance, which have been traced back to this area. And as always happens when things like this occur, those goods command the attention of quite a cast of characters, both friend and foe. That cast now includes Sykes."

"Sykes himself."

"Indeed. And this is where you come in. We have very specific reports of a man of Sykes's description in the area, asking questions about those objects. We need to follow this up and track him down; both solve this mystery and stop the man. The proverbial two birds with one stone."

"So, this is a solo mission, I'm assuming. Would have to be. And don't want a partner on this if it isn't."

"No, no partner at all, Bodie; in fact, this would not be recognized, officially or otherwise. This would be an operation on Soviet territory, and as such cannot be traced back to any official British agency. Even MI6 will not touch this."

"Ah, I see, sir. Complete absence of accountability."

"Exactly."

"In fact, it could very well be a suicide mission."

"I sincerely would hope not, Bodie - if anyone can do it and return, you most definitely can â€“ but I can't discount the possibility."

"A Susie, then. Of course. CI5 at its finest - once again."

"Bodie - if I thought there were some other way to do this, I would. But Sykes has appeared in the area, and may have KGB protection. There is no way to accomplish this through the regular channels."

Bodie slammed back the rest of his drink, placing the glass on a side table. "Just let me have Sykes, and I'll do it."

"Find out what he has, what he's been up to and what he's planning, and as I said before - he will be yours, wrapped with a ribbon and bells on his toes."

A smile promising much mayhem spread across Bodie's face. "When do I leave, then?"


	3. Chapter 3

Bodie had always respected George Cowley's ability to bend things to his will once he had set his mind to some goal; in that respect, nothing had changed since he'd left CI5. Within six hours, Bodie was back in London; within twenty-four, briefed and headed east. A few transfers, a few brief meetings, a bit of backtracking, and within two weeks' time Bodie found himself in the back of a truck amidst a work detail making its way across the Urals.

The years of solitude, while not completely erased, receded into the background for awhile; instead, elements of his past life came back to the fore. The basic Russian he'd picked up years earlier from a fellow prisoner during a spell in a Congolese lock-up came in very useful; for all its accented tones, he came across as being from the hodgepodge of the Caucasus, rather than an enemy of the state. It was more his personal contacts, rather than those generations removed from George Cowley (and thus untraceable), which helped him make his way from stage to stage, location to location, until a thirty-six hour truck ride had deposited him in Kyshtym, the nearest town to Chelyabinsk-40. An open town, unlike its neighbour, it allowed him more freedom to move about, locate the right people. And its size - roughly 35,000 - allowed him to disappear briefly whenever the wrong people stumbled over his tracks.

Much as he'd expected, Kyshtym itself was a bit of a dump; banks of utilitarian high-rises and some long-slung official buildings with extremely high security made up the bulk of the city. Dump itself might have been a misleading term; the babushka brigade daily swept the streets for the greater glory of the Supreme Soviet. But the place was drab, oppressive, functional. Uninspiring.

Of course, inspiration wasn't why Bodie was risking life and limb here. He supposed maybe he'd adopted a sense of justice somewhere.

Though greatly suspicious of a foreigner, most of the few people he encountered felt it best to mind their business, not ask a menacing stranger much; after all, they had their own secrets to keep. The few who considered it worthwhile thought him to be a rough man looking for his next job, which took him much farther than an outsider asking invasive questions. He could cycle through enough Russian to avoid most other conclusions.

Soon, though not soon enough, he caught a whiff of where Sykes had been and, better yet, where he might be found.

#####

" _Da_ , Bodie, I have had word that this man you are looking for may have passed this way."

"'May' doesn't help me, Andrei. I need something more concrete than that."

"I know, my friend, and you know I would do anything for you. You did save my life those years ago, after all. But I cannot pull miracles out of the air. Though there has been one miracle: your Russian is better than I would have expected." The heavyset towhaired man took a drag of his cigarette, then passed the butt over to Bodie. It tasted as harsh and bitter as he remembered from the days in the bush.

"I would do it again in a moment, my friend, you know that. But this is something I need to take care of. And as you might guess, it's somewhat of a delicate matter."

"Yes, I would imagine it would be, in fact that 'delicate' is a bit of an understatement." The cigarette, passed over again, glowed briefly in the dark. "Well, there's someone who would most likely know. I have not met him personally, but word does get around. His name is 'Teacher.' He keeps his own council, doesn't really fit in anywhere, but is just the kind of person who keeps track of odd bits and pieces of information."

"Teacher, eh? What does he teach?"

"Who knows? As I said, I do not know him personally. But he may get you further, keep you on the move and ahead of any bad news, as you are not in a good position in this town. He can be found through one of the workmen's bars; go to the woman in charge of the bar and she should be able to get word to him. She has her reasons for not turning you in, but just be as cautious as I know you are being."

"Well, it's a lead, and much appreciated. Not sure how I can repay you for this."

"As I said, you did save my life. And since your being here could endanger it again, perhaps we will consider it even." The Russian dropped the cigarette stub and ground it with his heel. "But I do wish you well, Bodie, and that you are able to complete whatever quest you are on. I do trust that this man you are pursuing is a threat, and needs to be stopped. You would not be here otherwise."

They were silent for an instant, then hugged each other - briefly but fierce for all that.

"Thank you, Andrei Andreiovich. I cannot describe how much this is appreciated, mate."

"Take care, my friend. Be well."

Bodie turned and disappeared into the night.

"Be well, Bodie. Be well."

#####

The _ryumochnaya_ was like any working-class pub in a tough city: rough men, rough booze, and rough atmosphere. The wrong word or the wrong look could end with a knife between the ribs as easy as anything else.

Much like many a town from his days as a mercenary.

Frankly, Bodie wasn't surprised that a meet would happen in a place like this.

He tugged on the workman's cap crowning his head and surveyed his surroundings. The room itself was small, cluttered with round tables just tall enough for an average-sized man to lean against, slam back a drink, and move on. Overhead, bare fluorescents sputtered luminescence over the room, the light casting a cold pall over the proceedings, although not enough to clearly define the drabness. Leonid Brezhnev peered down from a far wall through the cigarette haze, stiff and formal and for the most part ignored by the drinkers.

To one side of the room stood a counter stacked with glasses and bottles; behind that counter, a large woman held court. A small radio out of sight behind the counter provided the latest from Radio Moscow, albeit turned down in deference to the premier - or possibly the nonchalance of the drinkers. Bodie made his way over. On the other side of the counter he could see a small, crude rendering of a nineteenth-century poet done in a child's hand by the cash box, perhaps posted by a proud parent.

Perhaps also the signal he'd been given that he'd found the right place.

" _Sto gramm_." One hundred grams of the best local hooch money could buy - which wasn't saying much - was pushed in front of him by the woman. Bodie looked at her long enough to force her to look up directly at him, then said simply " _uchitel_ ," _teacher_ , the magic word he'd been given.

She jerked her head slightly up; then, shooting daggers at him, nodded a " _da_ ," shoved a _buterbrod_ in his general direction, and gestured to the corner. Bodie picked up the glass and the sandwich and made his way to an open table in the direction she'd pointed out. The room, the sandwich, even the dubious cleanliness of the glass - all of it looked bleak, but he would walk the length of Dante's inferno if it got him Sykes.

He brought the glass to his lips, then tipped back the vodka in one gulp, finding reassurance in its burn. The liquid coursed its way down his throat, both fiery and fortifying. _Not as bad as it might've been. If they've kept up the quality control with the still, I might even be able to keep up with the locals long enough to make his contact._ Or so he hoped.

Bodie adjusted the cap on his head, tugging it slightly further down. This was the place his contact had told him was the best place to await this Teacher, to get information about Sykes's location, otherwise he would never have exposed himself. Though the room was relatively quiet, and there was always the danger that someone would question Bodie's presence here, this was his strongest lead.

The barkeeper's assistant and probable spouse, a short, stocky man making the rounds of the room, came to the adjacent table and began to wipe down the surface with something grey that had once been a rag.

 _May as well start with Ivan, see what he can tell me._ "Must see a lot of people come through here." His Russian was still holding up, at least.

The man glanced up and grunted, then shifted over to start moving dirt around Bodie's table.

"Forgot a spot." Bodie casually placed a ruble note of a large denomination on the surface. The ex-rag, ever vigilant, cleared it away.

"Not from around here, are you?" the man muttered in thickly accented English.

 _So Ivan can speak._ The English was a risk, but Bodie continued. "Could say that. Looking for someone to help me with me bearings." The sandwich was a lost cause, but Bodie shifted the empty glass away from the encroaching rag. "Maybe you know him."

"Maybe. Another vodka, then? Shall I join you a while?"

"Why not, since we're friends now."

Ivan went to the bar, returning shortly with a full bottle and a second glass. He filled both, saluted Bodie, and effortlessly tossed his drink down.

"Teacher," Bodie pressed.

"Yes, you are from far away. And very possibly a fool."

"Just looking for him; a mate suggested his help with a little problem." Bodie cleared his throat in the wake of the liquid burn. _Damn, this stuff is potent._

"Just make sure the little problem doesn't become a bigger one." Ivan topped off the glasses, then leaned closer. "Planning a trip, then? A short holiday in a different location?"

"Maybe. The countryside is quite beautiful, and I hear Teacher is quite the guide."

"That he may be." Ivan nodded briefly to himself, as if deciding on something. "He'll be in soon. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow night, maybe the night after. He'll come find you. Just be here."

"How will I -"

"Just be here." The second drink was tossed back, then the man moved away, taking the remainder of the bottle with him.

#####

By nature, Bodie was a patient man, an attribute which had stood him in good stead many a time in his past. But after days of waiting in this empty bar, in this sad town, his skin was ready to crawl. He came in, he stood at the same grimy table, he waited. He drank enough home brewed vodka to consider he might have limits after all. He fingered his small pack, resting against his hip, containing his few most important belongings. He toyed with the idea of reaching over the counter and grabbing the woman by the lapels, throttling her for information, just to get moving and get the hell out of Kyshtym.

And the hours crawled by, and his vengeance simmered unabated.

Until the seventh day. Late into the night, about to head back to his boarding house, his head throbbing, his nerves on edge, when he wasn't sure he could watch yet another figure sliding up to the bar and remain silent. Only the thought of not reaching his objective, not finding Sykes, kept his lips sealed.

A figure opened the door and crossed over to the bar counter. Slight, sandy-haired under his cap, dressed in the same nondescript workmen's clothing that all men in the city wore, the man was slightly fidgety, body in constant motion, as though he'd been operating on coffee and fags for centuries. Different from most of the others that had wandered through; a little odd, a little off, though Bodie mentally shrugged. _Small potatoes._ He'd seen much worse in his time. His main concern was to find his contact.

The man spoke briefly to the woman tending the counter; an exchange was made. The woman, whom Bodie had christened Anastasia, Escaped From the Bolsheviks, said something to the man and briefly glanced Bodie's way. That instantly told Bodie that the stranger was likely his contact, this mysterious 'Teacher.'

The man finished his conversation and came - no, hard to describe, more _flowed_ \- over to where Bodie stood. The waif-like body in the loose clothing looked more like a boy than a man. He'd seen slight before, but combined with power, had worked hand in glove with him; no, just leave it as that, as it was hard to believe this small, watery man capable of identifying an ant, much less an obvious foreigner like Sykes. And watery wasn't so far off; he seemed _insubstantial_ , somehow. Not substantive enough to teach much of anything.

"You are the mercenary? I am told you have been waiting for me." The voice was low, though not soft; the language stilted, as though neither English nor Russian were his first tongue. But English it was.

"Yes. And you are - "

"I am called Teacher. As I am sure you are aware." They shook hands; Teacher's grip felt clammy, fluid, like shaking hands with a river. Bodie pushed back his reaction.

"It is safest to avoid names, so I will leave it as Teacher. I am told, Mercenary, that you are in search of something - or someone."

"Yes." An image of Sykes blazed across Bodie's inner eye. "A man - an outsider came this way a few weeks back. He took something of mine, which I would very much like payment for."

"This is your greatest wish in life?"

It seemed an odd way to put it, but - "Yes."

"Very well, then. Your reasons remain with you; I judge neither one way or another. I can take you where he went to, if you would like."

"Tell me terms, and let's get started."

"One moment. Before we begin, you must understand: I am the teacher, the guide. You must acknowledge this. Ignoring me, making one false step, can cause your death. You must listen to what I say, for the entire trip."

Odd enough, although he'd heard stranger. And the man was supposed to be an expert, after all. "Fair enough." _Until I get my hands on Sykes._

"He went searching for truth, you know. This Sykes that you seek. For the one place where his wishes could come true. Much the same as you."

"My wish is to find him and go home. That's it. Tell me what we do next, what I need to bring."

"You need to bring nothing. We leave now." Teacher gestured to the door.

It wasn't until later that Bodie realized he'd never mentioned Sykes by name.


	4. Chapter 4

The trip towards Chelyabinsk was silent, uneventful. Teacher had a battered jeep waiting down the road from the _ryumochnaya_ ; they climbed in and immediately sped off. Bodie silently watched grey houses under grey skies speed past the small man navigating the vehicle through the deserted streets, then snorted to himself. _Certainly a theme to this obbo. Oscar Wilde must've spent his holidays in the area. Maybe made some bargains, as well._

And he didn't care, as long as it all led to Sykes. 

After a few minutes, the vehicle jerked to the kerb, and Teacher flowed out. 

"You are to wait here. Do not speak to anyone, and do not leave the vehicle. I will return shortly."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of depriving you of my company. Just don't keep me waiting too long, sweetheart."

Teacher pursed his lips; then, without replying, disappeared into the building they'd parked in front of. 

Bodie smiled to himself. It'd been a while since he'd been able to needle anyone like that.

Bodie looked around. It was amazing how nondescript the place was, providing no clues to the man, the trip, or the obbo. There'd been tough situations to crack in the past - that German _au pair_ with amnesia came to mind - but this was proving to be more than a match for any of them. At least he could peg the building itself as some kind of restaurant; milling bodies had been visible just beyond the door as it shut closed, and a stout man had swooped by with a large platter raised above his head. But it was like looking at a fish tank, or a zoo: there were bodies and motion, but it lacked sound and context to provide meaning. Unsurprisingly, the scenario fit this obbo and the odd little man he was now connected to - though it already seemed to get in the way of Bodie's main objective, felt like a thorn in his side. 

He looked forward to this all ending very soon, though his world didn't contain enough room to consider a post-Sykes world.

Teacher returned just then - maybe about ten minutes after he'd left - with another man following him: taller, also blondish, though physically much more substantial. Looking at the man - not a body-builder, but solid all the same - Bodie sorted through who the newcomer could be. A calm but wary amusement reflecting in the hazel eyes, he gave the impression of a quite reasonable man whom one would pass on the street without noticing. 

Possibly KGB, but without the self-assured arrogance of the KGB officers Bodie had crossed paths with. If he were KGB, they'd changed their training programme. 

_Fantastic. Just what was missing from the holiday snaps._

"Mercenary. This is Watcher." Still in English.

"Pleased, I'm sure." Bodie's tone was anything but. He turned to confront their guide. "Teacher, you didn't mention this would be a package holiday."

"Watcher is coming along on the trip. No argument."

The other man stuck out his hand, undaunted. "Mercenary. Glad to meet you."

Bodie took the proffered hand, despite his reservations. "Watcher." The English was interesting: accented, but careful pronunciation. The tone made Bodie lean even more towards some sort of security service.

But - he could work around this; he'd sort out the implications later. Sykes was still his.

"We leave now." Teacher looked impatiently at the two of them. "This is the party, complete. We are ready to proceed."

There was no going back for belongings, or settling bills; as soon as the men had settled in the vehicle, they were on the road, pitching through the chilly night in the ancient jeep.

#####

Rather than going directly into Chelyabinsk, they took a ring road, circumnavigating the core city and any checkpoints to descend into the outskirts. All remained dead and silent beyond the sound of the jeep's motor as the scattered trees gave way to grass and low bushes, then abandoned brick buildings in an industrial zone. Rusted rail tracks ran the length of several of the streets, straggly clumps of grass poking up between the rails.

The jeep stopped at an intersection. Teacher squinted for a moment, straining to hear something above the chug of the engine, only to cut the ignition off. "Down! Get down!" he hissed at them.

The two men hit the floor of the jeep, Bodie holding his breath. _Jesus._ The roar of a motorcycle paused nearby for a second, as though searching; then continued on into silence.

Teacher slowly pulled them up. "Patrols. As you may be aware, this place is heavily guarded; none are meant to go in, and coming back out is not regarded as an option." A sudden smile broke across the man's face, revealing yellow, worn teeth. It was just as suddenly extinguished. "They will kill you if they see you. So be sure not to be seen."

The jeep reengaged with a roar, and Teacher navigated it down several side streets. They made a sharp turn, then skidded onto another set of rail tracks, barely visible through the weeds and assorted detritus. Pulling to a halt at the open door of a warehouse, Teacher jerked his head towards the entry. "Mercenary. Go inside and check for guards."

Bodie sprung from the jeep, glad to finally have something to do beyond complete reliance on this stranger's judgment, and stopped just inside the wide barn doors, carefully scanning his surroundings. _Warehouse / long abandoned / high ceiling / no place for a gunman to hide -_

"Quickly! There is not much time!" Teacher hissed from behind him.

He moved further into the structure, staying close to the outer walls. There were no signs of life, but he needed to check carefully to be sure. And he wasn't letting any near-kid break his training.

"Get across the floor - meet us at the other exit!" The jeep lurched off. 

"Christ, what now?" Bodie muttered. He looked in front of him, studying the open doors at the opposite end of the warehouse. The building was open to the elements and appeared empty. He was fairly convinced there was no threat here, just needed to check a bit more - 

Behind him, a resounding rumble erupted; a diesel engine swooped by the open door where the jeep had been, pulling a flatbed car behind it.

 _What the hell... Impossible._ He was _sure_ the tracks hadn't been used in years, and there had been no warning of an approaching train. 

The sounds subsided, to be replaced by the noise of a smaller engine, from a vehicle. Running to the opposite door, he was in time to see the jeep come swinging into the empty lane, hurtling up the stones to pull to a stop next to him.

"Teacher, what the f- "

"Take a look up there." Teacher jerked ahead with his chin, allowing for no questions.

Bodie looked back at the man, grim-faced, but still moved to the corner, peeking around the line of the near building. _Clear lane; no guards._ No place for a damned locomotive to barrel through. He studied the area for a few more seconds, then moved back to the jeep, sliding into his seat. "Clear."

They lurched forward again, and turned into the side route - only to see a motorcycle idling some distance down. "Mercenary - did you learn to observe in a tea room?" Teacher sucked his teeth, then swiftly put the jeep into reverse and pulled back into the lane.

Bodie twisted around, although he no longer had a proper view of the lane. _But there was nothing there. There's no way - there wasn't enough time..._

He did not like this.

They continued down the lane, finally pulling into an empty building. Teacher turned off the ignition. "Now we wait."

"Wait for - " started Bodie.

Teacher merely shook his head, putting his finger to his lips.

More than a touch disgusted but with no alternative, Bodie stepped out of the jeep and crossed the space to have a look out of the dirt-streaked window. The first thing he noticed was the rail tracks, running from his right, through a lowered crossing gate. He chose to believe that this set of tracks - which appeared to be in regular use - would obey the laws of the universe, and cause no issues. Beyond the gate and a little farther down the tracks, they ran through a tunnel of wire fencing, after which they curved past and out of sight behind a squat brick building. 

A normal enough behaviour. 

To the right of the wire tunnel, which ran for a few dozen feet, lay a solid line of sandbagged fortifications, beyond which Bodie could just make out the tops of white helmets. _Clearly a heavily guarded area, probably protecting the building and possibly the train as well._

Oddly enough, there were no fortifications at all to the left; in fact, there was nothing beyond an old ruin of a building, leaving an obvious opening in the facility's defences.

Teacher came up beside him, looking out the window to study the crossing gate.

Bodie didn't turn towards Teacher, continuing to focus on the crossing himself. "I assume that's how we get in." 

"Yes," Teacher said simply.

"They've left themselves exposed - that position to the left is too open to properly defend. Obvious, and an enormous weak spot."

"Well, my friend - they are concerned about fools rushing in. They disregard those looking to exit; none actually succeed. Exiting is nothing that registers with them."

"Ignoring half their position is a good way of opening themselves up for a fair bit of mayhem. And I would think they're aware that _someone_ has made it back out again - otherwise why are we here?"

Teacher looked at him for a long minute, and then: "Well, you have never encountered the Zone before, either." He refused to say anything more, and walked off.

They were in the warehouse for a good twenty minutes before a diesel engine - Bodie assumed it was the same one as before, but couldn't be sure - came up the track and pulled to a stop at the crossing. The gate went up, and the post instantly came to life, heavily armed guards swarming from the fortifications to inspect the engine and flatbed.

"Come! Now!" hissed Teacher. They resumed their places in the jeep, which roared to life.

Grudgingly, Bodie had to admire how well Teacher had timed it. By the time they had swung around from their hiding place, the train was lurching forward through the crossing and the guards moving back behind the sandbags. Teacher gunned the motor and the jeep slid along the tracks and under the descending gate. It wasn't until they'd reached the farther end of the fencing, which the train had just cleared, and pulled off the tracks to the left that the gunfire began. Bodie and Watcher kept their heads down as Teacher navigated the jeep into the ruins of the building on the left, almost by rote. Bodie noted Teacher's expert handling of the fishtailing vehicle. _He's definitely done this before._

Teacher pulled in a few yards, then brought the vehicle to a stop.

"Stopping here? Are you insane? They will simply walk up and pick us off like sitting pigeons!" Watcher hissed in low tones.

"No. They will not. They avoid coming anywhere into the Zone, even at the borders."

"You are stark raving mad, Teacher." KGB or not, Bodie could see that Watcher was clearly rattled by Teacher's actions. _And with good reason; our fearless leader is probably off his head._

"No, I have done this before." A few bullets whizzed over their heads, and they moved further down in the jeep. "If they can hit us from their positions they will. But they will not follow us even this far in."

"Completely against any rules of combat I have ever encountered." Watcher shook his head.

"The Zone follows its own rules. Now, we must go; we have much ground to cover."

#####

They abandoned the jeep deep in the ruins of the building. They said nothing, moving by gesture only. Silence was necessary to avoid drawing gunfire while they were still within range, though Bodie filed away a mental note to find out how Teacher managed to either recover vehicles or go through them like teacups at a village fete.

The terrain roughening as they walked away from the rail crossing, they silently picked their way through shattered bricks, and pieces of pipes, and fragments of wooden beams. Or rather, Watcher and he were picking their way through; Teacher seemed to walk straight through the debris, never questioning a step, never looking down. And he never tripped or stumbled as he moved along. 

_Stupid idiot._ It annoyed him no end. Bodie chose to ignore Teacher, beyond following his general direction, after stumbling a time or two and almost breaking his own neck.

Soon enough, they came to a small stream. The water ran fast, speckled grey-green with bits of fluorescent ribbons, as dirty foam danced along the surface. Bodie frowned at the sight. _Must be downstream from some sort of factory. Would never wish anyone to fall into that slop, although I might make an exception for Teacher._ A small boat was tied to the near shore, bobbing in the current. Two oars lay across the seats inside.

"Now, we continue." Teacher gestured to the boat, motioning for them to get in.

They climbed aboard and Teacher placed himself in the middle. "Mercenary, you must take this oar; Watcher, you take this other oar. We will progress this way." He pointed in a direction opposite the sun's path.

"It would be upstream, wouldn't it?" Bodie muttered.

Teacher glared at him. "We will go where I say we go. Otherwise this journey is over."

"Right, mate, not a complaint. As long as we're going somewhere." He and Watcher took up the oars.

As the boat progressed, the terrain softened gradually from the ruins of industrial production - abandoned with the creation of the exclusion zone, Bodie surmised - to sparse vegetation and then straggly trees, an unwinding of their journey toward Chelyabinsk. The three men passed the journey in silence: Teacher looking straight ahead, the other two men lost in their individual thoughts as they rowed the boat forward. For Bodie, it had been years since he'd been little more than a kid in Africa, following a commander's lead in order to remain alive, whether or not respect was part of the equation. Working with someone he didn't truly respect had almost got him killed a time or two, and this man was not instilling confidence that he could lead them anywhere. But Bodie had little choice at the moment; this was Teacher's kingdom and he ruled it with his twisted logic. 

At least to the extent that Teacher really knew where they were going. They seemed headed deep into the middle of nowhere, led by a man who wasn't quite there mentally - McKay was no patch on him - and with no specific stated goal. He needed to find out where they were going and how. And soon; every minute had a cost and Sykes could become out of reach at any point.

And there were the unexplained incidents; though Bodie refused to mull over them. They just got in the way of finding Sykes. He had to find Sykes. _Focus_ , his sensei Shusai would have told him.

He looked out over their surroundings. The landscape spread out before them in the late afternoon sun, warm and green and vivid. Once upon a time, Bodie would have used such a day as the perfect excuse to hop on his bike, go over to Doyle's and - 

_Focus._

He scanned the vista again, then the sky.

_We'll need to move soon if the plan is to cover any distance before sundown._

Teacher cleared his throat and gestured. "Row to the shore, pull the boat in." They steered the boat closer in, and Teacher sprang out, pulling the rope to a rock on the shore. Bodie and Watcher moved to the shore and helped the smaller man secure the boat; although, slight or not, he didn't seem to truly need assistance. 

The boat secured, Teacher pulled a couple of items from the boat and turned towards the two men. They followed him inland a bit; the land sloped upwards to a rise, with a good vantage point over rolling grass slopes that edged into woodlands bordering a broad meadow. He could hear some birds thinly trilling in the distance, and signs of abandoned equipment - or something - strewn about. There was, however, no sign of humans or human habitation beyond the three men atop the ridge.

Teacher gestured over the land beyond. "Watcher, Mercenary - this is where we begin our journey. The government's boundary is behind us. But ahead is the true border of the Zone, and what is inside... is far from anything man has ever imagined. 

"We make our preparations, and then we start for the interior." 

Bodie cricked his neck, looking around, personally more than grateful to be able to stretch his legs without being shot at. He took a second look at the land. They could likely cover the meadow with the remaining daylight, but would have to figure out a resting place soon. The meadow was too exposed, but if they made it to the trees - 

"Hey!"

Watcher let out a yell, and Bodie turned. Behind them, Teacher had headed back to the water and was fussing with the boat; as soon as Bodie realized what he was about, the boat moved away from the shore and started rocking down the stream, back in the direction from which they'd come. The two men ran down the slope, but it was too late; the boat was already out of range in the foul water.

"What - what are you doing, Teacher?" Watcher was livid; so much for a quite reasonable man. "You have just added another day to the return trip."

"This is not of any concern, Watcher, and you have not been paying attention to what I have said. None goes back the way they come in. That is not how it works in the Zone."

"Then would you like to tell us how it does work? Because to date, you haven't said much of anything. It looks more like you are trying to sabotage the journey," Watcher answered.

"You have both come of your free will, in search of your own specific goals. I am merely fulfilling my part of the bargain."

"But if there were another way in here, why did we almost get killed back at the checkpoint?" Watcher pressed.

"Because that is not how it works here. You can not enter by leaving." There was anger, but also a hint of a whinge to Teacher's voice. "You have agreed to follow and listen. It will become clear later." The man proceeded to pull some materials - scraps of cloth, handfuls of something small and shiny - from the voluminous pockets distributed among his overalls and sat in the grass. "Come, help me prepare." The tone challenged disagreement.

Watcher, still visibly irritated, sat opposite Teacher, but Bodie kept a bit of distance. _No need to start a scout troop out here in the middle of nowhere._ "Actually, I wouldn't mind finding out where we are, either. Is this part of Chelyabinsk? And where are we headed? How long until we get to wherever it is? Wouldn't mind looking it up on the Geographers' A-to-Z."

"Ah, Mercenary - you have been quiet through all this. We will arrive when we arrive â€“ though I can guarantee it will not be tonight." Teacher's mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile, as though he were the only one in on the joke.

"Well," Bodie responded, "you've certainly been tight-lipped about this entire expedition, Teacher. I know what I want. I don't know what our companion here would like from this, and in fact I don't even know who our companion is. I would imagine that additional parties are monitoring us, and that there are other potential dangers that you've neglected to mention. You've avoided giving much information and you haven't helped us protect each other or the purpose of this ramble. You're not making a whole lot of sense, mate." Bodie remained even-voiced, but an eyebrow lifted in derision.

"Ah yes, there are dangers; that is in part why we halt here. It will become clear soon enough," Teacher repeated, then gestured. "Here, sit. Help with the preparations, and we can discuss." Teacher handed him a wad of materials, which resolved to a handful of strips of cloth. "Let us do this quickly, and then we may be on our way at daybreak."

#####

Tasks completed - Teacher had had them collect small pebbles from the shore of the stream, which were then separated by colour and size on the cloths - the three men had settled down for a quick meal of bread and cheese, then made themselves as comfortable as possible to catch a few hours' kip. Teacher had sternly admonished them not to stray more than a few feet from the makeshift camp. He followed up the warning by moving a fair distance off, making himself comfortable on a large tuft of grass which he seemed to try to inhale, then falling asleep.

Bodie felt this to be the perfect opportunity to find out more about Watcher without Teacher in the vicinity. But even with their leader at a distance, Bodie wasn't sure what he could hear; the man seemed to have the hearing of a hawk. _Well, nothing left to it._ He softly cleared his throat and whispered, "Watcher." 

"Heh. I did not think you were asleep either, my friend."

"A little hard to do that, wouldn't it? No, just decided to enjoy the evening sky." A slight pause, then: "Can orient myself by the stars, but not sure of where we are, frankly."

"Yes. Scouse accent. I spent some time in England. You are definitely not from nearby."

 _Time to turn on the old charm, Bodie. Lie back and think of England._ "Well, you seem much more familiar with the area, mate. So where are you from, then? Would guess Leningrad from _your_ accent."

"You are good, Mercenary."

"Just had a few mates from some strategic places. So Leningrad it is?"

"Ah, I see. Strategic places. Well, I suppose we all have such friends, in some way. And yes, Leningrad. Or near enough."

"Well, then, since we've established I'm from far away, and have no idea where we're at, and you've got some background: the Zone. What's going on, and what do we need to watch out for?"

"An excellent question, Mercenary, and not one I can completely answer. Obviously there is a story to the place in which we find ourselves. I was not an eyewitness, but I have done enough research to piece together parts of that story. Several years ago, there was an accident here. Bright flare on the horizon, could be seen as far away as 500 kilometres. As happens anywhere, especially when no substantive explanation is given, myths sprang up around the incident. A meteor. An accident involving mysterious government work. An alien visitation. Many explanations in the face of no explanation.

"Whatever it was, however, the government quickly came in and cordoned off what became the Zone.

"As you might expect, that drew a few contrary souls to slip into the area to find out what was going on. And _that_ , over the intervening years, led to two things: first, inexplicable, fantastic items appearing on the black market: weapons which some referred to as magical, items that defied knowledge as to their use. Items that, when used, sometimes killed those wielding them, and sometimes fabulously enriched them. And second, a category of people who became expert in leading searchers into the Zone to extract these items and smuggle them back out. Our friend Teacher belongs to that category."

 _Not much more than I already knew._ Bodie, nodding to himself in the dark, let the man continue uninterrupted.

"If I may be so bold to inquire, Mercenary - what brings you here? And what are you looking for?"

"El Dorado." _And a man who stole it from me._ "Someone I crossed paths with once told me of this place, of some of those 'items' - and how one trip could make you wealthy beyond your dreams," Bodie replied. _Make it good, make sure he believes you're here to get rich._ "Wouldn't might tracking him down again, either, see how he's doing for himself." _Th_ _at should be enough to hold him._ "And you?"

"An end to poverty, peace among the nations. Or maybe just a way to make life that much easier, to end the endless struggle of existence. At the very least enough money, booze, and women to not care any more. And to feel good about myself. Not very much at all." There was a soft smile in Watcher's voice.

"Well, Mercenary, there is one more thing that I have heard about the Zone. More fantastic than the rest, but completely accepted by some. There are rumours of a place - a zone within the Zone. It is unclear what this place is physically; but it is always described as somewhere where dreams come true, wishes are fulfilled. That I believe is where the weapons come from, and where Teacher is taking us.

"Now, exactly what this place is and what it does neither you nor I know. But I will hazard a guess that Teacher believes in it and will defend it to the death. He may be insane; but because of his belief and defence of it, I am willing to put up with him to get there. I would advise you to do so as well; we have no knowledge of this land, and we do not need to encounter angry authorities or radioactive spots or any other unpleasantness. After all, this Zone is small, and this journey should last no more than a few days. Better to sit back and enjoy the scenery. It will be something to share with your grandchildren, at the very least." Bodie heard the sounds of Watcher making himself comfortable on the ground.

"Yeah, if we last anywhere near long enough for the first round of sprogs to show up," Bodie grumbled, then reluctantly agreed. "You're right. Teacher may be completely daft, but if we stand a chance of getting through this and back out, we have to depend on him." It didn't sit well with Bodie, but then there wasn't much of a choice. 

At least not until he had Sykes.

"Go to sleep, Mercenary," floated over from the other shape. "We have too much to look forward to tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

_"Oi, Sunshine."_

#

_Bodie turned to the right_

#

_The little girl sobbed in his arms, a mass of pyjamas and snot and heat. More up Doyle's alley, but Doyle was back in the command centre with Cowley. A one-man task, and he was the one man this time around. Nothing for it, then; he tucked the small head against his neck and made his way out of the building_

#

_Bodie turned to the left_

#

_There was Doyle, wide blue-green eyes, the bed, the white expanse of sheet: time and tide pulling them irresistibly along, pushing them together in one perfectly logical whole_

_Lips and teeth and muscle and will clashing in combat; no clear winner yet both victorious. Alive, obbo over, cleanly concluded for once_

#

_This couldn't be right, couldn't be real; he was on a chase after Sykes to get his pound of flesh and then some.  
But the images continued on._

#

_"Achoo!" the small head was tucked into his neck_

#

" _Having regrets, Doyle? Don't remember you going on like a bird when I had my cock up your - "_

_**Shut** it, Bodie. No one's brought that up but you." Though there was a look on his face, a look that Bodie didn't want to consider_

#

_"Achoo!" the curly head ducked into the sleeve of the jacket._  
  
_"Third time you've sneezed in an hour, Doyle. A little rain and you melt like the Wicked Witch of the West? Learn from me, old son - never been sick a day in my life. Perfect specimen of a male in his prime."_

#

_Bodie'd got home after the paperwork, and the debrief - gone home, and taken Doyle along, and they'd fallen into what had been building up between them since the first day they'd laid eyes on each other._

#

_They were one perfectly logical whole. Little was said, little needed to be said. Just, "Not one of your birds, Bodie. Never one of your birds. Don't forget that"_

#

_Bodie'd felt off for maybe 24 hours. Nothing to write home about._

#

" _Doyle. Wake up; we're being summoned. Sykes has finally been spotted. C'mon, then. And wipe the drool off your face. Hate to ask what you've been up to in your sleep."_

_"Piss off, Bodie. Sick now, because of you."_

_Bodie feinted, threw a punch at Doyle - who mistimed it, was hit harder than Bodie intended. "Christ, Doyle, you really _are_ sick. Should be home, not here. Don't think this is one of your better ideas, Angelfish."_

#

_"Achoo!" the small head was tucked into his neck_

#

Bodie opened his eyes, then immediately squinted them shut.

_Bloody blinding sun._

Disoriented. He wasn't sure what was real at the moment. It was hard to tell; he'd had that dream. An obbo, Doyle. Doyle. Alive and whole. He'd never dreamed like that, with that much detail. He'd managed to bury it all down deep, and down deep was where it needed to stay.

But it had been just a dream, after all. It was time to get back his bearings and realize that it had been just a dream. There was the real world and a mission to complete in it.

Teacher was moving around from spot to spot, preparing for their departure, doing what appeared to be almost a sort of ritual. Watcher was stretching, pulling his few items together, and side-eyeing Teacher's movements.

"Mercenary - are you always this slow in the morning? It is a wonder you have survived this long as a mercenary."

"I've done quite fine for myself, thank you. And I'm still alive, and still quite able to take care of myself. Even when the people presumably on my side try to sabotage the journey."

Teacher gave him a withering look, then continued with his preparations.

Even without Bodie's post-dream stupor, they'd got off to a slow start. Once awake, Bodie had quickly pulled himself together; but the water for tea wouldn't boil properly, which sent Teacher into paroxysms, swearing that they'd done something wrong and would be dead within the hour. The water eventually boiled, but it took twice as long to pack up their gear, as Teacher triple-checked that nothing was left behind to displease the gods further. Or at least that was what Watcher muttered a bit too loudly, which only worsened Teacher's mood.

Bodie turned to where Teacher was gathering up belongings, stuffing the piles of small stones they'd gathered the night before into his pockets. "Planning on standing beneath the window of your ladylove, then? Or perhaps ending it all in the nearest river?" _One could hope._

"No, we are plotting our course. Come; it is time to go. I will show and explain."

They stood, shaking off grass and dirt in the morning chill, turning to face Teacher. The man pointed to the end of a fence. "Remember. Remember well. Things... do not _act_ the same way here as they do on the outside. I can not warn you enough. You must listen and follow me; follow me exactly. I can not guarantee your safety otherwise. And if you want to reach your goals, we must proceed forward."

"Yes, yes,... you have emphasized that quite a few times," Watcher spoke slowly.

"Okay, dad," Bodie placated the man. "You _have_ mentioned this before, but we need a little more information to do what you need us to do in order to conclude this little trip. What do we do first?"

"We go to the end of that fence. And then we walk carefully. You first, Watcher." The wiry man took off at a clip, glad to get underway; Bodie followed, somewhat sceptical but happy to be moving as well. Teacher came up behind them.

At the end of the decaying fence, Watcher came to a stop besides a piece of rotting wood and turned to Teacher. "Fine, then; where to next?"

In answer, Teacher pulled one of the smooth pebbles from his pocket and lobbed it up; it gracefully arced through the air and landed in billowing grass. "Walk to where that rock fell."

"Come on, mate - you must be kidding." Bodie shook his head, mentally calculating how many days it would take to travel 200 metres at that rate.

"No, Mercenary - we cannot just walk to our goal; we must _respect_ it. The rules here are unpredictable, and they change from visit to visit. What was safe before can kill you this trip; and what was forbidden earlier evokes barely a breeze this time. It is impossible to tell; the only possibility is to take precautions. Now, let us proceed."

#

"Oh, Christ."

They'd covered some distance, Teacher moving forward ahead of them, when Bodie stopped short and started to pat himself down. _My gun._

"What?"

"It's not here."

"What is not here?" Watcher looked slightly concerned that another thing was set to interfere with their progress.

"Can't find it. Had my small pack since we left Kyshym, had it last night in fact, and it's gone. Must've left it back at the camp."

"We tripled-checked this morning, at the gentle prodding of our gracious host. You are sure you left it?"

"Not sure of anything any more. I would have said I had it with me when we left the campsite, but doesn't look like it. But - I can't leave it." _Not my gun._ "Not negotiable. I'll have to go back for it."

"Teacher will not be pleased."

"Think I don't know that? Christ, once our esteemed leader hears this, it'll make this morning look like the teddy bears' picnic."

Teacher swung around, eyes ablaze. "There is no going back."

"Oops, too late." Though Bodie was set to go down swinging; he'd had enough of the mysteries and he needed his gun. "Well, my gear is gone. Got that? Gone. So we're going back now. Despite your fits, we can take the half hour to go back and get it."

"No. I must insist. Go back, and I cannot be responsible. I wash my hands completely."

"I'm a big boy, Teacher. We went through all sorts of hoops this morning and nothing happened. We went through all sorts of hoops yesterday and nothing happened. Got it? *Nothing* *happened*. Going back will not cause anything to happen."

Surprisingly, Teacher capitulated, seeming to wilt a bit. "Then - you must do what you must. I wish you luck, then."

A victory, though Bodie could again hear Sykes's laugh in his head.

"And, you Watcher?" Teacher swung towards the other man. "Will you still proceed - and listen to me?"

"Oh, very much so."

"Then let us go. We cannot waste more time here."

#####

Teacher and Watcher trekked off without looking back; Bodie turned once or twice to watch the receding figures as he made his way back to their earlier camp. It was deathly still out here, a regular day with no sign of menace; in fact, it was quite beautiful, belying the risk of being in this area in pursuit of a particularly dangerous man.

Not to mention the unexplained happenings.

_I wonder what Doyle would have made of all this._

Doyle had always been more open than Bodie to the oddities of life. Bodie had chalked it up to his partner being a sensitive bugger when he wanted to be. Oh, Doyle had always been a perfect partner, never any complaint there; Bodie would never have doubted Doyle's ability to cover his back at any time. But Doyle had his moments of guilt - for some hooker he hadn't seen in years, for a nutter set on blowing up a hall of doctors, for a call girl murdered by the assassin she'd thought she'd get the better of. Doyle just ran hot that way.

Bodie was never bothered by things like that - or, at least, he never let them bother him. Never quite understood those who did. But this was Doyle. He didn't need to understand him; they weren't a couple of birds.

They had just understood the _idea_ of each other, he supposed.

Doyle definitely would not have liked the idea of vengeance on Sykes, of course. Bringing him back for justice, yes. Roughing him up first, if necessary. But actually executing the man, no.

_Well, sod "justice" and "right and wrong." Doyle isn't here and Sykes is. That has to be remedied._

#####

With a little difficulty, Bodie made it back to their earlier camp. He recognized the crushed patches of grass, a dirt-covered circle where they'd boiled their morning tea, and the spot where he had tucked his belongings beneath himself while sleeping.

_Has to be here somewhere. Nowhere else where it could be. No one got close enough to take it, made sure of that._

He walked the site again, less difficult than it might've been since Teacher had kept them confined to such a small area. _Nothing._ Bodie looked over towards Teacher's sleeping area. _Maybe the berk *had* got hold of the gun somehow? But when would he have had a chance? He was over there the entire night._ Bodie crossed the several yards to where he remembered Teacher bedding down, though there were no traces of the man's presence. _Figures; just like the little git to pass through like a ghost. Like everything else on this bloody obbo._ He headed back to where he and Watcher had spent the night, then sat on a nearby boulder.

 _No shooter, no one guarding my back... Can't anything go right in this bloody hellhole?_ Frustrated, he kicked the grass at his toe - and his foot hit something solid.

He looked down.

There was a small leather pack, just big enough for a Walther PPK - 9mm. The pack that he'd brought with him from England, in a spot that he'd searched at least three times that day.

But that was impossible.

He was getting tired of all the impossibilities. _Fucking hell, I hate this place._

He must have missed it earlier. If the little git had done this...

"Where the hell is Sykes, so I can kill him and get out already?" he yelled at the clouds.

Nothing answered back.

#####

The pack had checked out; his gun, plus an ammunition clip, were still inside as he had left them.

Seated on the ground, his shoulders against the rock, looking up at the sky, Bodie weighed his options.

The sun was almost directly overhead, so it was about noon. A couple of hours must have passed since he'd separated from the others. He likely had enough time to trek back to their parting point, then track their trail from there, to catch up with them by dark.

As long as Teacher hadn't once again gone off the deep end and completely changed his plans.

 _Which I would not put past him at_ all.

_Although he is getting a little predictable in his unpredictability._

_Stupid idiot._

Well, there wasn't much else to it - if he didn't set off in search of the others, there wasn't any other choice to take. Teacher had made backtracking to the entry point infinitely harder, and the guards back at the rail crossing ensured that leaving that way was more a matter of how quickly he would die.

The only option was to get up off the rock and get moving.


	6. Chapter 6

_Bodie. Bodie, wake up._

#

_Bodie felt half asleep, couldn't shake the sluggishness off - but it :did: sound like Doyle._

#

_Wake up Bodie. Waiting on an engraved invitation, are you?_

#

_Bodie opened his eyes, and -_

#

_The little girl sobbed in his arms, a mass of pyjamas and snot and heat. More up Doyle's alley, but Doyle was back in the command centre with Cowley. One man task, and he was the one man this time around. Nothing to it, then; he tucked the small head against his neck and made his way out of the building._

#

_"Achoo!" the small head was tucked into his neck_

#

_Bodie'd got home after the paperwork, and the debrief - gone home, and taken Doyle along, and they'd fallen into what had been building up between them since the first day they'd laid eyes on each other._

#

_"Achoo!" the curly head ducked down into the sleeve of the jacket._

#

_Sykes was coming through the door, reaching for his weapon._

_Bodie raised his gun to sight level, though his arm felt like lead; raised his arm while moving to track the running man's path._

_His finger had contracted almost enough to trip the trigger, though something screamed at him to :stop-you-don't-know-where-Doyle-is:._

#

_There was a **wrongness** to how things were playing out. This wasn't how it had happened.  
He didn't want to see it happen again; he'd be damned if he'd sit back and let it happen again._

_Bodie would be more than happy if he could rewind things, shift the universe, make them turn out the way they should have._

_:It will not happen again, I will not * **let** * this happen again.:_

_**:NO.:**_

_He jerked the gun to the side -_

_The bullet drilled into an elder bush in the corner of the garden as Doyle came around the front side of the house, sneezed, was jerked around by Sykes, pulled into the path where Bodie's bullet would have gone otherwise._

_Sykes ducked at the sound of the gun - and Doyle had slammed into him, throwing him down into the earth to make sure the man could not escape._

_And sneezed._

_Teamwork. It was that easy. Bodie wasn't sure * **how** * they did it, but the important thing was in the end they did do it. _

_It hurt that this wasn't anything more than a dream. But at least somewhere Doyle was alive and whole._

_Doyle._  
_He turned and looked back._

_Doyle had Sykes well in hand now, face down and cuffed and wrapped up, a better pressie than the bottle of Glenlivet they'd given the Cow last Christmas. Bodie picked up his R/T and called it in._

_"3.7 to Alpha One, 3.7 to Alpha One. Sykes is in custody, and secured to transport. Over."_

_"Alive, for once? And with no casualties. Good work." This was something new; the Cow never freely handed out compliments, backhanded or not. "Then bring him in, lads."_

_"Doyle. You're - you okay?" He couldn't stop staring at the man._

_"Bodie - stop pratting about, help me get him up. And close your gob before something flies in."_

_:Yes,: he grinned. :Alive and whole.:_

#####

_Back at headquarters, Sykes deposited securely in Interrogation, Cowley immediately pulled them into his office, offered them glasses of the decanter at the back of his drinks cabinet, reserved for the very rare occasions. Bodie's understanding of the afternoon's events was changing, though; he now felt uneasy, angry about the obbo, wanted to go home and grab his own bottle and stare up into the bottom of several glasses until he couldn't see straight anymore._

" _Excellent work, lads. No casualties, clean capture. A job well done." Cowley stopped to savour the glass of whisky in his hand. "Things are now quiet and in hand. Once you've done with your reports, take a couple of days. Nine am sharp on Monday."_

_This was unlike the Cow, but Bodie would take it. It would give him time to get over the massive hangover he expected to start working towards in a few hours._

_"Thank you, sir." Because in CI5 you always thanked the person who put you in the path of danger._

#####

_He'd managed to escape headquarters by a miracle, but soon enough a key turned in his door, long before he'd finished the first glass of the evening's project._

_Doyle. Alive and whole. Not somewhere on a slab. Not leaving Bodie alone. It was too much to take._

_"Oi, Bodie - pint down at the local? Brought something with, in case not."_

_"Have fun."_

_"C'mon, Bodie - need to burn off some steam. Maybe burn off a few other things as well."_

_"Not now, Doyle." :Not while I more than feel like putting a bullet into your brain.:_

_"Bodie - c'mon. The Cow is happy, everything ended well. What's crawled into your pants and taken hold?"_

_"Doyle - not a good time." He looked up at his partner, swimming in his sights. Arms crossed, hip thrust out. Looking good enough to eat, as always._

_"Never a good time, is it? So any time will work just as well. Now, spill." Doyle approached and leant over him, full of piss and vinegar and unconsciously, flagrantly sexual, as always._

_"You idiot."_

_"What?"_

_"You heard me. You ran around the building, got in the line of fire. A second earlier, and I'd've shot you."_

_"But you didn't. " Doyle had the balls to grin about it, too._

_"But I almost **did**. What, you think this is funny?"_

_"No, I know you. Like the back of me hand. You and me - we're like those stars that attract everything, even light. Black holes, they call them. Well, I'm your black hole; you can't escape me, you'll always have me around after you. Same for you. We're a pair, we take care of each other."_

_:But I didn't take care of you the first time around.:_

_Doyle was hovering just before Bodie, just within reach. He could stretch out his arm, feel the warm flesh beneath his fingertips -_

_"God almighty, Doyle, You're worse than my nymphomaniac cousin."_

_"Don't have a nymphomaniac cousin, now do you? Unless you've been holding out."_

_:Yes, I've been holding out, protecting myself.:_

_Bodie reached out to feel, to hold, to grab Doyle and bring him down into his lap, pull the bow lips to his and own them._

_And afterwards, Bodie started to drift off, Doyle's heat radiating along his side. Far away, he thought he could hear Sykes laughing._

#

_Nine am sharp on Monday, and in Cowley's office as commanded. A weekend to explore each other, and Bodie could hardly wait to get back to it._

_Doyle alive, in his bed, all was well. As it should have turned out._

_But duty called, as always._

#

_Doyle had stopped at home for a change of clothing. Bodie had dropped him off and gone in to headquarters, where he waited outside Cowley's office for Doyle to arrive._

_:Alive and whole:_

_"Bodie?" Betty cut into his reverie._

_Bodie noted the clock on the wall behind her. :9:30 already? Where the heck was Doyle?:_

_"Sorry, Betty. Not sure where Ray's got to, should've been here by now."_

_"Mr. Cowley is asking for you to come in, Bodie. Without Ray."_

_:Odd, but it's Cow's Rules.: "Okay. Father speaks. 'Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die'." He crossed to the door and pulled it open._

_The comptroller sat behind his massive oak desk, distracted. "Ah, Bodie."_

_"Morning, sir. Not sure where Doyle's at; sure he's on his way in -"_

_"Have a seat, lad." He waved to one of the chairs before the desk, which Bodie pulled out and sank into. Cowley seemed less demanding than usual, which threw Bodie off._

_"Bodie. The capture of Sykes has been a goldmine. A goldmine of information, almost more than we can handle."_

_"Well, sir, we're always at capacity, as you always say," Bodie responded._

_"But there's a cost to it, as there's a cost to everything."_

_"Sir?" :Probably already putting together the next obbo, solo by the looks of it.:_

_"No easy way of putting this, lad. It's Doyle. Ambushed this morning outside of his apartment. We're assuming it's tied to Sykes."_

_"No." No, he'd changed things, saved Doyle._

_"I'm very sorry, laddie. I'm taking you off active cases, giving you some time -"_

_"But I *saved* him."_

_"Looks like retaliation -"_

_"NO ---"_

#####

"NO --- "

And Bodie was opening his eyes. The clouds were still floating by, serene; the sun at about noon position. 

At the bottom of his field of vision Teacher and Watcher, upside down, gazed down back at him. With the same looks on their faces that Dream Cowley had had on his.

"That is amazing," Teacher nasally trilled. "As you see, we continued on in a straight path..."

"More or less," interjected Watcher. 

"Taking into account precautions," corrected Teacher, "only to find Mercenary. Mercenary," the watery hazel eyes directly addressed him, "how were you able to follow us, to catch up to us?"

"Don't know what you're on about." Bodie was still rather angry about the Zone and the man who was making it a difficult place. "Don't know what the hell is going on, full stop. I backtracked, I found last night's camp, I found - " Bodie held up his leather satchel - "my pack."

Teacher knelt down and would have taken the pouch, except Bodie refused to release it.

Watcher broke the silence. "It would seem the gods have forgiven this transgression, Teacher, and have seen fit to reunite us."

"There are no gods," Teacher spat back, "only the Zone. And you both should be thankful that it has seen fit not to punish us for any of these transgressions." He stood and brushed off his knees, moving from wonder to sternness. "Now come. And let us have no more of your willfulness and contrariness. We are behind and need to proceed."

Teacher turned and stalked off. Watcher looked at Bodie, raising an eyebrow. 

_Well, things seem to be back to crazy normal._ Bodie raised an eyebrow back in return. The two men then turned and followed their guide's angry steps. 

#####

"We will stop here." Teacher pointed to a sparsely grassed patch throwing shadows in the late afternoon. "And this time, we trust that everyone will keep account of personal belongings and not leave them behind."

"Maybe the Zone has a thing for my personals," Bodie retorted. "Not exactly privy to what it's thinking, am I?"

"We have come through the challenge whole," Watcher interjected, "and we are now here. Let us continue on in that spirit. Teacher - we are awaiting your instructions; what do you need us to do?"

"We set up here. We make camp here," Teacher replied in a clipped though mollified tone. "And tomorrow, we hope to reach our objective."

"There is an objective to all this?" Bodie reined himself in, to get the information from Teacher. 

"There has always been, Mercenary. The objective has remained unchanged, but the means of achieving it has been fluid. But we will reach it, and you will find what it is you truly seek.

"Now, let us prepare, and rest. On the morrow we will regroup and discuss."

The men settled down for the evening. 


	7. Chapter 7

_:Have to get this right, have to get this right. There are only three tries, no? Or maybe more third time's a charm. Can charm the birds, now I just have to charm fate.:_

_The little girl sobbed in his arms, a mass of pajamas and snot and heat. More up Doyle's alley, but Doyle was back in the command centre with Cowley. One man task, and he was the one man this time around. Nothing to it, then; he put the child down and pulled his handkerchief out. "Sweetheart," he whispered, "I'll get you back home, to your mummy and daddy, but I need you to do something for me." The little head nodded, the sobs already subsiding. "You have to be very, very quiet. Here, take this handkerchief and cover your mouth and be as quiet as possible." She nodded again, and did as she'd been asked, stifling some sniffles. Bodie picked her back up, tucked the small head against his neck and made his way out of the building._

_:Good. There's one thing fixed.:_

align=center >#

_Bodie'd got home after the paperwork, and the debrief. Told Doyle that the sprog had been leaking all over him - she was cute enough, mind, but he was turning in early, Cowley would want them in at dawn anyway. Doyle made a couple of jokes about age catching up with everyone eventually, even former SAS, but headed home early for a quiet evening himself._

_:Good. The second thing changed.:_

align=center >#

_He was back at the house again. Sykes was running away from him, scrambling for his gun. Bodie brought his own gun up, aimed, and - watched. Waited._

_Doyle came around the other side; Sykes reached out to pull him around -_

_All motion stopped._

_This was it. This was where the difference would be._

_Bodie did not fire, though he remained poised and vigilant, gun in hand._

_Doyle did not sneeze._

_Sykes pulled him around, but Doyle resisted; having more control over the situation, his body was slower to move through the arc._

_Bodie remained frozen as Doyle's body moved through and past his target area._

_Doyle moved through and past Bodie's target area, and was clear. Sykes was bringing his own gun out and around -_

_Bodie's finger pulled the trigger._

_Sykes crumpled to the ground, dead._

_Bodie grinned._

_There was the third thing fixed._

#

_Cowley, however, was not happy._

_"I told the two of you, we needed Sykes alive. Alive! Alive, aye, and full of information that we now cannot get because he is dead."_

_"No, sir." Bodie stood stock straight, eyes forward, at attention; Doyle was no less formal, despite his non-military background. They both knew better than to say much to Cowley when he was truly angry._

_:Though I'd kill Sykes again in an instant for Doyle.:_

_"I select you, train you, pay you to do a job. I own you lock, stock, and barrel. As a result, I expect you to do that job to my specifications, not for your own pleasure."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Months of hard work wasted, and no closer to his plans - ach, get out of my office and write your reports. I want those reports tonight, and I want the two of you in my office tomorrow, 7:00 am sharp." With a wave of his hand he dismissed the two agents, though they remained motionless for several seconds more. "Well, what are you waiting for?"_

_Outside Cowley's office, Bodie stopped Doyle._

_:Alive and whole:_

_"Oi, Doyle, Father's not best pleased. Easiest to not go against him right now. Maybe we should write the reports, stop for takeaway, and stay over. Bit easier to get in in the morning, at least."_

_"Don't understand what he thought we should do; Sykes would've had one of us killed if you hadn't shot him. Not the best solution, but just then someone had to die. But nothing to be done now about it. And not much to say, so the reports should be quick. So, yeah; takeaway would be one of your better ideas right now, sunshine."_

_They'd gone over to Doyle's, then; got some Indian and some lagers, gone to his apartment, and fallen into what had been building up between them since the first day they'd laid eyes on each other. The chicken tikka sat on the kitchen counter, forgotten, as Bodie reached for Doyle and looked him up and down_

_:Alive and whole and *here*:_

_brought him closer and took possession of the bow lips. Doyle responded as though it were second nature, pulling his partner impossibly close until the two of them had to break for air._

_They just looked at each other for a minute. Doyle then pinned Bodie with strong arms and an angry stare. "Not one of your birds, Bodie. Never one of your birds. Don't forget that."_

_"Won't forget that, Doyle. Never saw you that way."_

_And all was right with the world._

#####

Morning came, and with it another long slog through the deceptively calm countryside. The three men making their way under the clouds were silent, sharing nothing with each other: Teacher, silently moving his lips as he traced out their path; Watcher, pensive as usual, eyeing Teacher with a jaundiced eye as he followed behind; and Bodie, tired and angry and pulled six ways from Sunday as he brought up the rear.

The dream - the dream had been so vivid, so real, things had felt like they had when Doyle had been next to him and they'd been chasing the bad guys. The hole that had opened inside his chest had been filled, damn it, _filled_ for the first time since he'd first felt it and damn it, he didn't want to go back to standard operating procedure anymore.

_But there's no choice, is there? Doyle is gone and dead and all there is now is Teacher and Watcher and Sykes and nothing beyond that._

And of course, despite the prior night's promises, there was not much from Teacher in the morning.

Towards the long end of the afternoon, when the shadows were lengthening into evening and the silence almost completely overbearing, they approached a stand of trees. Teacher stopped short and muttered to himself, then hopped to the side. Bodie and Watcher stood off at a distance.

 _Oh, Christ, the lunatic again._ But Bodie kept his thoughts to himself.

Teacher looked at the ground. "Yes, this is it"; then, louder, "this is where we stop."

"Stop?" Bodie and Watcher spoke as one, thinking the same thoughts at this time.

"Yes, we stop here for the night. Watcher, Mercenary; we have arrived."

"Arrived where, Watcher?" Bodie figured he could pretend to be interested in the coming non-explanation.

"The Room. The heart, the inner sanctum of the Zone."

"Don't see a room around here," Bodie half-muttered.

"The entrance to the Room is through the trees, down a tunnel. We approach and we enter - though on another day, not today."

"Why not today?" Although Bodie didn't have to wait for Teacher's reply to figure out the answer. _Must be the amount of light in the tunnel. Been spending too much time with this lot to know this._

"The light; there is no light beyond sunlight in the tunnel."

"Sunlight? We can assume then that there are air vents to the surface and nothing more sinister than that?"

"Yes, Mercenary." A quick smile skittered across Teacher's mouth. "Nothing more than natural air holes to the surface."

#####

Sleep came more easily than Bodie would have guessed, given the day's events.

_"Mate."_

_:I can't do this anymore, Doyle, can't save you because you're not really here.:_

_"Doyle - or whatever you are. Get away. Far away. Doyle is gone, deceased. You are a hallucination, the proverbial bit of boiled beef."_

_"Fine way to treat your best mate, that is. Looks like the bump on your head was a little harder than Doctor Patterson figured on.... C'mon, Sleeping Beauty, let's have a look at those baby blues, then. Time to get up."_

_Bodie opened his eyes reluctantly. His field of vision was filled by Doyle, roughly a foot away. And despite the sarcastic snark in his partner's voice, concern clearly spread itself across the man's face._

_"Okay, let's see if you've matched Little Orphan Annie, then." Doyle peered into Bodie's eyes, the model of efficient CI5 training. "No, doesn't look as bad as it might, but we'll keep an eye out and check again in a couple of hours."_

_"Thank you Nurse Doyle. Wouldn't know what to do without you."_

_"And stop looking like that and get some shut eye. Enough with the mad monk look, that's been out of style for at least sixty years."_

_But you're not here._ _**I'm** _ _not here._

_Bodie reached out and cupped the side of the head, wild curls captured between his fingers. But the skin, the hair, the warmth under his palm... :Feels so real.:_

_Doyle - whatever - covered the hand with his own and let it linger. "Didn't know you cared, mate." Behind the teasing was a hint of something else in the blue-green eyes, just for an instant. "C'mon, then; big day tomorrow, and you'll need to be fresh as a daisy. And besides, not on the first date."_

_"So not tonight, Irene?"_

_"Just not lucky tonight, sailor." The face broke into a grin, chipped tooth and all. "Now get some shut eye."_

Bodie's eyes flew open. It was still dark - not time to get up, not time to reinsert himself into the pseudo-reality of travel on this trip. But something had awoken him, and he wanted to know what.

He sat up. A few feet away Watcher was sprawled out, doing anything but watching. _Looks almost comfortable lying there, too. Not a care in the world. Nice for him. Probably not following orders, either, if he's that far asleep._

 _So, where's Tweedledee?_ Bodie looked around more, but there was no sign of Teacher to be found. The man kept to himself at night, kept his own counsel, but Bodie wasn't about to lose the daft sod so close to whatever it was they were in pursuit of. He rose to his feet and set out towards the clump of trees in search of Teacher.

A bit into the stand, and a look to the left, he found Teacher sitting cross-legged, propped against a tree trunk. His eyes were closed, and the light of the half-moon made his features almost chiselled, almost like the reflection of a statue in the water.

Almost unreal. _Drop the almost._

"Mercenary." Teacher slowly opened his eyes, unperturbed.

"Teacher," Bodie replied, unfazed.


	8. Chapter 8

"Mercenary, come sit. I know you have had questions about this journey; let us sit and talk."

Bodie came and set down facing Teacher, searching the watery grey eyes. If he didn't know better, he would have said that Teacher was a drug addict; but given the past few days, he knew that any explanation of the man's background was much more complex than simple drug use.

"As you know, my name is Teacher, also Guide. I take people to where they want to be, to their deepest desires. That is my role in life.

"The Zone raises many questions in the minds of those who travel through it. Few of these questions can truly be answered; not because I am crazy, as you insist on believing" - Bodie snorted but remained silent - "but because there is no true answer in the sense of an answer in the world that you are familiar with.

"Things _change_ ; that is the only thing which remains constant."

"Yes, you've mentioned that, Teacher. But why? What is going on here that would cause that change?"

"That is what I am referring to. This place is not like the outside world, is **not** the outside world, but few are able to comprehend that. I do not fear for my position as you, Mercenary, would not make a good Teacher."

Bodie laughed despite himself. "Not sure I would want your job, Teacher. You might need a little more training in order to reasonably be called that."

"Well, Mercenary, I am also called Porcupine. A small creature, seemingly harmless to such as you, but with armour to protect myself. My armour is my mind, and my understanding of the Zone. Not understanding in your outsider sense, but understanding as in how to respect it in order to navigate it. 

"Many like you have tried to come in, to navigate their way based solely on their outside understanding. This did not pertain to just individuals; in the early days of the Zone, outsiders - the government blocked regular access and sent its military in with their brute force method of explore and conquer. Troops and divisions and armies were sent in, as quietly as these things can be done. They were sent in, and - they all disappeared. Troops and divisions and armies, with no sign of what happened to them. After that, the government ended their explorations and simply terminated all access to the Zone. 

"It was never discovered what happened. And I have never seen any trace of these troops and divisions and armies."

Bodie just stared back. _Whole Soviet armies, with no word? That's not likely. Either he's crazy, or this, this is beyond anything else..._

"As I mentioned, you are likely not able to understand. You would not be the first, and you will not be the last.

"The Zone is many things to many people. To the government functionary, it is a thorn in his side which he would like to take advantage of and find profit against his enemies. To those, like your target Sykes, it is a potential source of income to be explored and exploited. For you, it is a hindrance, in the way of achieving your wishes. Although perhaps not...

"The Zone attracts humans, with their various human motivations. Usually the two would not fit together at all, and even when there are similarities, they do not fit together well. More correctly, the Zone attracts human emotions and drive and desires, drawing them in to a sort of 'black hole' of existence."

_Doyle had once said that, had once called them and their partnership black holes, attracting each other._

"I am sure you have heard of the term 'black hole of existence.' It is somewhat similar to the astronomical term."

"It would help if you would stop doing that, mate. You know - the mind-reading act."

Teacher just smiled sardonically at him.

"What's in it for _you_ , Teacher? What do you get out of being here?"

"There are those who are able to come in, explore, and guide others in their quests to achieve their aims. That is my role, my wish - to teach and guide.

"And when conditions are just right, the subject and their desires align just so, I help the Zone help the subject move through that 'black hole' and come out the other side.

"For most people, this would be a dream come true. There are the expected wishes for wealth, and power, and other forms of control. However, it is not as simple as that; it never is. For is wealth truly one's deepest desire? Does the acquisition of power come without other costs? You may rub the genie's lamp, but your wish may not come out the way you desire. As they say, 'be careful of what you wish for.'

"Do you truly want to find this Sykes, Mercenary? Is that your deepest wish?"

Bodie stared up at the sky, feeling the blue weighing him down, almost suffocating him. Did he? _Did_ he? If there were anything in life that he could have, would it be Sykes, as the blood payment for Doyle's life? He wanted the satisfaction, although Doyle might not have agreed. Somehow, it seemed too shallow, too superficial to continue. But - it couldn't be true, wouldn't be possible; but if there were _anything_ he could want, it would be to see Doyle one more time, ruffle the curls, burst through the door together. To be able to forget the ugliness of that single day, talk to his partner, pretend it hadn't happened for a few minutes, even an instant.

He looked back at Teacher. "No. It isn't."

"I am glad you are able to see that, Bodie. You - you may be a mercenary, a hard man, and somewhat obstinate, but you are a good, fair man. Just open your eyes to the possibilities that exist." 

#####

"Now, Mercenary. Let us proceed."

Bodie glanced back at their travelling companion, still asleep several yards off, although he felt a tangible need to leave the man, not delay any longer. "Need to wake Watcher, don't we? Don't want the Powers That Be to become annoyed."

"Do not be concerned for him. He is not needed for this part of the journey."

"But he's not just along for the ride."

"His time is later. Let us proceed."

Bodie fell silent and followed the other man's gliding steps. They traveled farther into the trees, and down through a hole in one of the old trunks. The hole seemed small but surprisingly widened into an earthen tunnel high enough for Bodie to stand upright.

"Be careful, Mercenary. This can be just as dangerous as the prior part of the journey." Teacher stopped for a moment and turned to Bodie. "Although you have been very fortunate in your trip through the Zone, I must admit."

"What is this place, Teacher?"

"It is the true journey, Mercenary. On this you will have to take my word."

They slowly progressed further along the earthen tunnel, careful not to disturb the roots growing from the sides and above. The tunnel itself seemed to be man-made, although of natural materials, mainly the dirt and roots that made up the trees and bushes growing above them. Bodie found himself more preoccupied with the space, and less with the man traveling with them. His senses were filled with the tunnel, and the closeness, and the occasional break for an airhole while allowed some light to guide their steps. There was also the promise of... something, Bodies wasn't sure quite what, but a sense that this truly was about to come to an end, or at least be resolved. He was almost afraid to breathe, to break the air of anticipation. 

They came to a turn in the tunnel, and there it was - a simple door. Chestnut, with a simple knob for a handle, and innocuous enough. It looked like something that had been in his gran's house when he was very, very young, a door that had seemed to hold all the promise in the world to a very little boy.

"This is your choice, Mercenary. You no longer need to follow my instructions. You may progress or not at your own will."

Bodie stood regarding the door. Thought of his dreams, and desires and wants, everything that had ever made him feel and that he had ever wanted. Of the years and years of being sure that he really never needed anything, not letting anything in, and being self sufficient, and of the one thing - no, the one person - who he'd ever really wanted in his life. 

Bodie reached out and turned the knob clockwise.


	9. Epilogue

Watcher had awoken suddenly, from a deep sleep about things he hadn't thought of in years. 

The sun was up, although just barely. It was still a bit early to proceed on their journal, although from the discussion the previous night he was of the opinion that the journey was close to its completion.

Lifting his head, he looked around. Mercenary was no longer sleeping by him. Turning to the other side, he could just make out two figures by the stand of trees that Teacher had pointed out the prior day. Teacher and Mercenary, and they must be deep in discussion. 

Turning to lie on his back, looking at the lightening sky, Watcher smiled to himself. All throughout the trip, when he offered anything at all, Mercenary had radiated hatred - of the slow pace, of Teacher's near-lunacy, and especially of the man he would not admit that he was pursuing. On the surface, he would have bet that the sun rose and set on Mercenary's destruction of his target. But it became clear that there was more to this man, things that he would never speak about to anyone, at least not his travelling companions - though a muttered word deep from dreams indicated otherwise. Hoyle? Foyle? Who knew what came from dreams and wishes. 

And this was it, the place where dreams and wishes reportedly came true. 

Dreams and wishes. If Teacher were right, and who was to say he was or was not, at this point this fabled Room would give Mercenary his favored wish. And despite all that he protested, he would bet anything that finding this target was not the man's deepest wish. And that was the dangerous bit. Deepest wishes weren't always obvious, even to the wisher.

Watcher turned back - and the two figures were moving through the trees. _Dermo_ \- they were leaving him without a word. He quickly got up and hurried to where they'd disappeared, to find a tunnel hidden among the roots. He slipped through the hole and, once in, found it easy enough to progress down into the tunnel he found, although he could not quite catch up to the other men. The earthen floor of the tunnel felt surprisingly soft against his boots, and he had to claw his way through the exposed roots hanging into the tunnel. He should be able to, fully expected to catch up with the other men; it was just taking longer than he'd thought.

Finally, he came to a turn in the tunnel and saw them just ahead. Teacher stood to one side, and Mercenary stood before a regular wooden door, staring at it.

About to say something, he stopped - for what reason, he would never be able to say. And Mercenary reached out to open the door.

#####

But the oddest thing was - the opened door, had radiated brightness. Brighter than full sunshine, or an industrial spotlight trained on the doorway on the other side. Mercenary walked through, smiling, saying something. And he could have sworn he saw a figure on the other side, a mop of curly hair, reaching forward.

Whatever it was, it was. Mercenary had stepped forward through the door, taking the hand, never looking back. The door closed behind him.

#####

In all his years, on all his operations, Watcher had never come across many of the things he had seen on this journey. Most he knew would never have an explanation. And perhaps it was best that way.

As for himself, he had no desire to know his deepest wish.

Well, he didn't believe in all that, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> REPOSTING AFTER THE GREAT DELETION of '15
> 
> In Andrei Tarkovsky's 1979 film, _Stalker_ , main character Stalker mentions Teacher, also known as Porcupine, who was his mentor. This story branches from the idea of an episode from Teacher's life, before he and Stalker crossed paths.
> 
> No trademark infringement here, folks. 
> 
> It's been a long hard slog, but we're glad to announce that we're here (which wasn't always a sure thing). And thanks? There are many thanks to be given.
> 
> I'd like to thank Solosundance and Moonlightmead for the beta duty. Stellar as always, and thanks for your patience. 
> 
> ILWB and Rain for their artistic talents (seventeen pictures and two vids! :D). I appreciate very much that I had two very talented people contributing and I'm honored that your chose - and liked! - my story. :D 
> 
> Thanks to the CI5_BoxOfTricks mods for their understanding as well. You ladies are gracious and awesome.
> 
> Thanks for you for reading, and taking this in a direction that a lot of people wouldn't want it to go.
> 
> And last, but far from least, to my mother. We haven't always seen eye to eye, and she'll never hear about slash from me; but I do love her and value the time we spend together.
> 
> ======================
> 
> And for those pesky warnings: yes, Virginia, there's Major Character Death.


End file.
